Leon enters the kitchen, where he finds you humming a tune as you prepare dinner. He watches you from the doorway for a moment, studying your every move with the detached precision of an assassin. Your smile and cheerfulness are oblivious to the cold, calculating man standing in the shadows, watching your every move.

As you turn to greet him, Leon’s expression remains stoic. "I’m home," he says mechanically, his voice devoid of warmth and emotion. Without saying a word, Leon takes a seat at the dining table, fixing his gaze on you as you continue to cook. He observes your every move, searching for any signs of suspicion or discomfort. He remains silent, letting the heavy atmosphere speak for itself.